The Man(n) finds The Men again in Penning. Fascinating.
Must have something to do with the nearby Linden pine forest, he concludes correctly.
He decides to stay in this sim and paint. But how to get rid of what’s already here?
“Buggers.”
He then eats with 3 ant related avatars…
“Ummmm. That’s pretty good, Ant. Thanks!”
… before falling asleep on a starry horsie.
Night night, Mr. Man(n).
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0019, 0109, Corsica, Splinterwood
Axis can’t decide. To keep this office with all his energy lines embedded in it already…
… or to shift over to Morgan’s *old* office, even though no one yet knows it’s old. New(s) of his death has yet to spread locally. The virus is clogging the newsfeeds. “14 dead in Fearzum, 14 dead in Fearzum!” they cry, causing panic in the market. No, Freechild’s demise can’t break through that impenetrable Wall of Fear. But he’s behind that too, being from Fear*zom* and all (always gets a laugh). He created both. Might as well call him Mr. Pennsylvania.
But he has a meeting to attend. Over at Freechild’s place. Can test it out today himself for a while. See how he likes.
—–
Yes, Axis thinks to himself while staring out at the Ashenlave summit we’ve seen once before in this here photo-novel, or at least the western part. No sea, but instead this peak looming before me, reminding me of where I came from. Granite far far above green. He looks stonily in the direction of Sandman and Ant-Man on the other side of the spacious, line free office.
“Gentlemen!” he cries in as Morgan Freechild a voice as he can muster, administrative skills peaking at a high. “We must get down to the *merger*.” Ant-Man, formerly just Ant and just The Man but now something quite else, stares over at Sandman, who was always a man as well as Sand — no morphing there.
Ant-Man, edging closer, knew this: that Sandman was afraid of the first change, which he’d already gone through. “No no!” wailed The Man after Ant approached him and then swallowed him whole, *becoming* him. Hucka Doobie didn’t tell him this drastic trick but Ant, after all, had a stupid internet feed and could look up how to soul merge on his own, duh. Quicky style.
Now Sandman’s turn.
He ate. He swallowed.
Copyright infringement free *Sant*man is born!
[photo removed for copyright infringement]
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0018, 0608, Ashenlave, Corsica
Surprising me, the Main Church of Cheese (or just Main Church) still exists in the Pond District of Heterocera. I decided to pay a visit, disguised as a parishioner.
Afterwards I tracked down the Good Rev. Amos T. Sandman (clown) to get more of the scoop. Info about the brief but intense Pond District-VHC City war back in the day would be super nifty. *Jackpot* there, for the Reverend was a treasure trove — had a personal archive out back on the conflict. Said his grandfather piloted a Main Cheese boat over to the shores near VHC City to help with the barricade.
The next week we met in nearby Rodentia to further discuss the matter. Rodentia is fast becoming a treasured relic itself, having been around in Our Second Lyfe for over 10 years. His church was visible through this coffee shop window with a larger draw distance, adding to the ambience.
“So tell me about the Oodites,” I began. “Why did you guys hate each other so intensely? I get the whole clowning thing with you and presumably your grandpa, heh.”
“The Oodites deserved all they got. They put a black hole in the middle of that town and dominated through it. Warped the minds of the commoners (humans) there. *Sang* from that middle. He opened his red tainted clown mouth here for a bit but no sound emerged that I could hear. “That was 10 years ago,” he then continued, and *that* at the end of another 10 — the 10th. Pitch Dark that black hole was.” He paused here for me to absorb.
“I mean,” I spoke through Man About Time, “how did the Oo’ds get there? The aliens you speak of.”
“Oh they were horrible to look at. Could drive a man mad easily with their tentacles for mouths and their sideways eyes. Henry (Russian Grey parishioner I met the week before) looks good in comparison, ha.”
“Heh.” And I wondered why I laughed like that again, like a goofy kid. Did I have a cold?
“Well — how did the underground (movement) start?”
And it was here that Rev. Amos T. Sandman said he had to split to prepare for a diatribe against bananas on Sundae, a rival yellow food. We’d have to get more of the story at a later date.
(to be continued?)
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0018, 0303, Corsica, Heterocera, Pond District
“A clown?” Mary exclaimed upon meeting the Good Rev. Amos T. Sandman yesterday at the Main Church of Cheese over in the Pond District. “No *wonder* you hate the Cult of Oo’d so much!”
“Indeed!” the Reverend exclaimed back. “*Now*. Which of the gateway gods do you choose to worship today?” He shields his mouth with his hand and says in a considerably lower voice: “Say fries, say fries.”
“Um. Fries I suppose.”
“Good choice!” the Reverend said, returned to shouting mode. “Please join Sister Deni Stew Moore at the appropriate side altar.” He waves to his right. “You have 8 minutes, then must yield to another. As you can see, for a Wednesday we have quite the crowd here, and more are filing in — everyone needs a turn. And the fries are a very popular warmup before the main course here at the Main. Enjoy!”
When Mary goes to the side altar to join a woman who’s apparently been totally cheesed (Mary had been warned about such staunch devotees), she found she couldn’t bend her knees in the proper, reverential fashion and merely had to sit upon the provided pose ball.
“Psst. Mary,” the cheese being next to her whispered out of the side of her curdled mouth. “It’s me. Bill.”
“Wheeler?”
She whispered again, more urgently. “Keep it down, keep it down. And address me as Bill from now on. I’m the queen after all.”
“Sure you are, Wheeler… Bill. But what’s this all about?”
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0009, 0507, Pond District
Sunklands 